Forgotten
by FairiesAndAngels
Summary: What forgotten secrets have yet to be told? Christine must uncover the past to build her future.
1. Chapter 1 Song of the Sea

_10/04/05 Sorry, not got my head round this thing yet! Couple of tiny changes, but nothing drastic!_

_This is a 'sequel' to the strange mix of everything I have in my head (Leroux/Musical/Kay/Film). _

_BTW I have been writing original historical fiction for a while now and so I am trying to make the social situations etc. correct to the period (e.g. In this chapter: Christine could not possibly live with Raoul without a chaperone and, as you will see from later turns in the plot, the people I chose as chaperones are necessary)._

_Thank you, allegratree for giving me my first ever review! You were lovely!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my original characters, settings etc. You know, the usual!_

**Forgotten**

**Chapter 1 – Song of the Sea**

The waves lapped gently at the jagged cliffs beneath her feet, softly slapping the hard grey rock. Its constant song called to her through the fresh, salty air. Like the wailing of Mermaids, it entranced her, lulled her – just like he had. A chorus of cries coursed through her, forcing her to remember. Cries of tortured souls and perished prisoners of the tumbling ocean. One by one the calls of the sea's captives left her head until but one voice remained. At first it was muffled and distant, but slowly, and ever so steadily, the voice seemed to come closer and become clearer until it was right there behind her – "Christine!"

Christine's head snapped around to look behind her. Her breathing was short and shallow, her hands clammy. Tear pricked at the backs of her eyes. She snatched up her skirts and ran as fast as she could back over the cliff-top to the horse she had left back on the path. Grabbing the reins she threw her body onto the saddle and bolted off towards the house.

Why that voice still haunted her she could not quiet say - she did not wish to thing about it too deeply in case the answer was something she did not wish to know. It was just there, and that was that. It had just been a tremendously emotional experience. She could not expect it to just leave her memory.

"You must not dwell on the past, Christine! You have a new life, now," she whispered to herself.

The bright white walls of the Chagny's seaside retreat stood out against the steel grey sky. It emerged slowly from behind the abundance of trees planted to shield it from the eyes of passing travellers. The Chagnys were a very private family: they never seem to wan to show themselves to the world. At least it was out of choice.

Christine rode round to the stables and dismounted, passing the reins of the beast to the stable boy. She regained her composure before re-entering the house.

It was a grand and pretty building to be sure: clean and light and far larger than any she had lived in before; but she found something lacking in its design. It had no flare, no little intriguing details – just an empty calm which she found lifeless. She was used to the busy thrum of the opera house. The shrieks of delight, the cries of despair, the thrill of being on the stage! Yet, no, she was here.

"Christine? Christine! I had wondered where you were!"

Little Meg Giry came scurrying towards her, a bundle of fashion plates in her hand.

"These were just sent up from Paris. They are so beautiful!" she said excitedly, fanning out the pictures of fashionable wedding gowns on the table. "You will look so beautiful! Raoul will be delighted!"

She giggled, her eyes sparkling as they looked up at Christine.

"They are lovely, Meg."

The Girys had come with her and Raoul to the house by the sea to make it proper, as Madame Giry had said to her. Besides they had nothing better to do. The opera house would not be alive again until the end of the year at least. Meg had plunged herself into arranging Christine and Raoul's upcoming wedding, she seemed even more enthusiastic about it than the bride herself.

Meg jumped at the sound of the great gong in the entrance hall signalling dinner.

"Oh! You have not changed! Raoul would not like his bride to come to dinner in a riding habit! Especially when he has guests."

"Guests? He never told me."

"Oh, but yes. It is the Marquis of, now let me get this right, Bourgélion." Meg nodded proudly. "He owns the estate next to this. He came this afternoon to discuss, oh I don't know, some estate matter I suppose, with the Viscount. He's very handsome!" Meg giggled again.

With that she gently pushed Christine towards the grand staircase and to her suit of rooms.

"I will meet you in the dining hall!" Meg called after her.

"Dinner with a Marquis!" she mused as she mounted the final flight of stairs before she reached her room. "Well, at least there is something to take my mind off of…NO!"


	2. Chapter 2 A Marquis and a Man

_Finally! Chapter 2! Thank you everyone who reviewed. Hope you like this chapter as much. This is where Susan Kay comes into it. Don't worry if you haven't read Phantom. It all has to be explained to Christine anyway. _

_Please R&R!_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

**Chapter 2 – A Marquis and a Man**

"They are waiting for you in the drawing room, mademoiselle," The Chagny's old butler as she descended the grand staircase.

"Thank you, St Just," Christine replied, then she said quietly, "where exactly is that?"

The old man smiled kindly. "Just through there, Mademoiselle," he said, gesturing to a door leading out of the hall.

She thanked him again and made her way towards it. She put her hand around the cool metal of the knob and began to turn. She had never met a Marquis before. She had never really been present at a formal dinner before. She drew in breath and swung the door open.

Meg and Madame Giry sat together on a silk brocade upholstered chaise-long by the marble fireplace; Raoul was starring absentmindedly into the flames licking at the logs in the hearth, his blonde hair highlighted by their light and on the twin of the Girys' seat, sat two dark haired men. Christine stepped further into the room, making her presence known.

"Christine!" said Raoul smiling. "May I introduce the Marquis de Bourgélion."

"Mademoiselle," said the Marquis rising. "It is, indeed, a pleasure to meet you at last. I had, of course, seen you," he coughed uncomfortably, "on stage, and been entranced."

Christine smiled timidly at his compliment, conscious of the obvious trepidation he felt when conversing with a common actress.

"Chagny, here, has also spoken very warmly of you. I am pleased to finally meet you."

She noticed he did not mention the scandal. Perhaps it was not so well known as she had feared. Or perhaps he was simply too polite.

Meg was right: the Marquis was handsome. Yet there was something about his appearance she could not like. It was not that his hair or eyes or nose was not to her liking, lord knows she was above that now, but there was something of arrogance in his manner, a patronising quality to his voice. True, she saw no harm in him, but she could not like him.

"This is my friend and protégée, M. Charles Barye," he was saying as he gestured to the second man, who had also stood.

Christine's hand flew to her chest. Her breathing became fast and short. The room whirled around her. She felt herself spinning, falling. Coloured lights flashed, her ears buzzed. She was falling. Falling. She fell.

There you go! Did you like it?


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